


Seeing in the Dark

by AllisonMadness



Series: Sentinel Harry [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonMadness/pseuds/AllisonMadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry comes online as a Sentinel at age five. Rescued by strangers, Harry has the chance of a new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cupboard

**Author's Note:**

> I really thought my writers muse was completely dead, but I found this plot lurking in my brain and it needed to come out. Thanks to Badgerlady for the awesome beta and brit-picking!  
> The first chapter has abuse from Petunia to Harry. If this is a trigger, don't read.  
> Don't ask about Damage or Color of Life. I have no idea when or if I'll ever get back to them. If you must know why, read my profile page.

_The Cupboard_

The first time Harry Potter was shut in the cupboard under the stairs, he was four. At least, he was pretty sure he was four. Dudley was four, and even though he was bigger than Harry, Harry was smarter. Dudley couldn’t even get all the way through his ABC’s. So that made Harry four, too.

Harry was helping Aunt Petunia clean the kitchen and ats’dentally dropped an open bottle of cleaner on the floor. He tried to grab the towel to clean it up before she saw what he’d done, but it was too late. She caught him around his middle, yanked his trousers down and smacked his bottom, _hard_. Then she’d made him clean up the mess, screeching at him the entire time. When he finished, he stood in front of her, careful to keep his eyes on her shoes. Aunt Petunia didn’t like it when Harry looked at her.

_Not scared,_ he kept telling himself. _Not gonna cry._ He felt his legs start to tremble and poked at them with his fingers, trying not to move his hands too much, ‘cuz that would bring Aunt Petunia’s ‘ttention to them. _Stop,_ he ordered them, in his “soldier” voice. The voice he imagined the little toy soldiers that lived in the box under his cot would use. _Stop now._

After what felt like a really, really long time, where nothing happened to him, he risked a look at Aunt Petunia, tilting his head just enough to peek at her from under his eyelashes. To his surprise, she wasn’t looking at him, which was…weird. Instead, she was staring through the kitchen doorway and into the hall, a strange look on her face. He chanced a glance at where she was looking, but saw nothing inter’sting. Just the stupid old hall and the stupid pi’tchers of Dudley. She turned back to look at him and he quickly lowered his gaze back to her shoes.

With a hiss, she grabbed Harry by the upper arm, making him jerk involuntarily. Which in turn caused Aunt Petunia to tighten her grip on him to the point that it hurt. A lot. Swallowing a whimper, he let her drag him out into the hall, stopping in front of the cupboard under the stairs. Opening the door to the cupboard, she flung him in. “You’ll stay in there, Boy,” she hissed. “Until I say you can come out.” The door banged shut, leaving Harry huddled on the floor, in the dark.

At first, Harry couldn’t move. The darkness closed in all around him, making his heart pound. He pressed a hand to his chest to try and make it stop doing that, but it went on pounding and pounding, until he was sure that it would just pop right out of his chest, and make a big mess in the cupboard. And cor, he would get in real trouble for _that._ He buried his face in his arms, and counted, slowly. When he reached twenty-seven, which was as high as he could go without having to think hard about what came next, Harry pulled himself up to a sitting position, tucking his legs under him. His heart was still beating really hard, but not as bad as before, and he was pretty sure that it would stay where it was. Still, he put his hand back on his chest and counted to twenty-seven again, just to be sure. He stared at the door, and the little bar of light coming in under it. His brain felt mushy, and slow, and full of worms, which was a Bad Thing. Being around Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon meant he needed to be quick, to be able to think, and to duck. He felt tears in his eyes and scrubbed the palm of his hand, the one that wasn’t busy protecting his heart, over his face. He couldn’t cry, that would bring Aunt Petunia to yell at him to stop sniv’ling, and Harry didn’t want to find out what would happen after that.

Keeping his hand firmly pressed to his chest to make sure his heart didn’t go anywhere it wasn’t ‘posed to, and telling himself over and over that he wasn’t scared, he scooted forward on his knees until he was a few inches away from the door. Then he lay down on the floor so that the little sliver of light shined on his face. He put the thumb of his free hand in his mouth, but didn’t suck on it. Only babies actually sucked their thumbs, and he was big. He was just holding it there ‘cuz it needed to go _somewhere_. Breathing heavily through his nose, he stared at the light and the bit of carpet it illuminated. He wasn’t going to turn around and face the dark, ‘cuz dark was horrible, and he hated it. Dark was filled with bad men with red eyes, holding sticks that made green light come out of them. Dark was ladies screaming, and some guy laughing, and not in a happy way. The laughter always made Harry want to curl up in the nearest corner and put his hands over his ears. He felt his breathing speed up at the thought of what could be behind him, and quickly started counting again. Then he recited his ABC’s a few times. Then he spelled the few words he knew. CAT. HAT. BED.

He tried to think of how to spell his name, but couldn’t decide which name was the right one. Boy, Freak, or Harry. He thought it might be Boy, because that’s what Aunt Petunia called him most of the time. Uncle Vernon liked Freak better, but Uncle Vernon really hated him and Harry thought that _might_ just be a mean word and not an actual name. Harry might also be his name, but it could also just be something to call him ‘cuz he had so much _hair._ He had lots more than Dudley, and Aunt Petunia was always talking about how horrible it was.

Giving up on trying to decide which name was really his, he watched the light for a long time. Eventually, the urge to cry faded, his eyes got really heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

In his dreams, he saw a little black puppy. The puppy was sniffing around and whining a little. Harry tried to call to him, but didn’t know what to call it. He reached out a hand to try and touch the puppy, to see if he was as soft as he looked, but the puppy faded away, still sniffing and whining.

He woke suddenly when the door crashed open. He sat up, trying to ‘member where he was and why he was sleeping when it was clearly daytime. Late afternoon sun was shining through the front window in the sitting room.

“Get out here and set the table!” Petunia said sharply. “Vernon will be home soon.”

Harry came out of the cupboard slowly, still trying to make his head turn on. Sleep, and the memory of the puppy, had made him fuzzy and he couldn’t think fast. “Can I go potty first?” The words popped out before he could stop them, and he felt a growing sense of horror. He’d asked a question! How could he be so dumb! He stared stupidly at Aunt Petunia for a moment, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Then he realized what he was doing, and with a little whimper, quickly turned his back and braced himself for the smack he knew was coming. Then he waited, and waited. When nothing happened, he cautiously looked over his shoulder at Aunt Petunia. He could tell she was angry, her face was all red and her mouth was pinched closed, but her hands remained firmly on her hips.

“Go,” she said through gritted teeth.

He ran.

\------------

The puppy sometimes visited him in his dreams after that. Always just out of Harry’s reach, the puppy would sniff and whine and sometimes bark. Harry wanted to touch the puppy so much, and he would try hard to reach him, but it felt like he was pushing through jelly. Sticky and thick and yucky to touch. Sometimes, he thought the puppy could see him, ‘cuz he would bark and bark in his direction, but Harry couldn’t get to him. He’d call to him, but he didn’t know the puppy’s name. He was convinced that if he could just figure out the puppy’s name, that the puppy would come to him. It made him so sad that that he couldn’t figure it out, that he had to struggle not to cry after he woke up.

The days after he had the puppy dreams were the ones when he got in the most trouble. He always felt like there was something wrong with his brain, that it might explode at any moment, and he kept wanting to press on his head to make sure his brain stayed inside. Aunt Petunia would yell at him for being too slow and slap his hands whenever one would drift up to his head.

He spent more time in the cupboard under the stairs, also. Aunt Petunia put a lock on the outside of the door and it became her favorite way to punish him. She would shut him inside and leave him there for a long, long time. He tried to be strong and brave against the dark, but he always wound up lying on the floor, looking at the little bit of light that came in under the door.

Sometimes, if she’d left him too long, he would beg her to let him out to go potty, but she always ignored him. When it got too hard to hold, he would wet himself, and then got a spanking on top of it all.

After the third time in the cupboard, he started carrying a couple of little army men in his pockets, so that he would have something to keep him company. He would stand them up in front of him and whisper stories to them. Sometimes he talked about the dreams he had of the puppy, or the giant who was riding a flying motorcycle. Sometimes he would make up stories about someone coming to rescue him. A nice man who would take him to a safe place where no one ever hit him and knew what his real name was. He’d recite his ABC’s and spell his ever-growing list of words. As time went on, he thought he could see the little Army men better in the dark. Their little plastic faces seemed to be easier to see. Which was silly, he knew.

\------------

Dudley’s fifth birf’day came and went, and his new presents were taking up a lot of space in his bedroom. Dudley was always whining about his room not being big enough for all his toys, but he wasn’t willing to give up any of his old ones.

“We wouldn’t have this problem, if the Freak didn’t take up so much space,” Uncle Vernon said over dinner one evening.

Aunt Petunia nodded her agreement. “What do you suggest we do, Vernon dear?”

Harry tried to block out what they were saying and eat his dinner before they took it away from him. They always gave him much less than what Dudley got and if he didn’t finish right away, they would take it away.

Uncle Vernon got a _thinking_ look on his face. “We could let Dudders put some of his toys in Harry’s room.”

“Dad! I’m not sharing my toys with him!” Dudley squawked. “If we put them in there, he won’t stay out of them!”

“Good point, darling,” Aunt Petunia said in a sugary voice. “Your dad and I will give it some thought. I’m sure we can come up with something.”

\------------

It was hot in Harry’s room when he woke up one morning. The heat seemed to beat on his skin, penetrating his little body until he thought he might be boiling from the inside. He unfolded himself from his cot and slid out of the permanently lowered side. He quickly pulled off his soaking wet pyjamas and pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a tee shirt. He was pulling on his socks, when he realized his neck and back itched like crazy. He pulled off the shirt, scratched all the places he could reach, then put it back on. Within a minute he had it off again.

He shook the shirt to see if Dudley had put something in it to make him itch, but nothing came out. Confused, he took out a different shirt and put it on, but this one wasn’t any better. Then he realised that his feet itched, so his socks came off. Then the shorts. He didn’t want to take off his underpants, but the itching was getting really bad.

“Boy!” Aunt Petunia was standing in the doorway. “Get dressed!”

“I itch,” Harry said. “My clothes are all scratching me.”

“Stop lying!” she said. “Put those clothes on and keep quiet!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said, reluctantly pulling the clothes back on and heading down the stairs to the kitchen. The itching was back and he had to work hard not to scratch. It was going to be a bad, bad day.

\------------

“What are you doing, you stupid boy?” Aunt Petunia yelled, her voice loud in his ears, making his head hurt even more. Why was her voice so much louder than before? “Get moving! I don’t have all day!” Her voice got closer, and louder and Harry started to whimper, without realizing what he was doing.

“Too loud,” he whispered, trying to press his hands even harder over his ears. “Hurts.”

“Hurts?” she screamed, grabbing the back of his neck. “I’ll show you hurt!”

She dragged him to the cupboard under the stairs and shoved him in. The sounds of her shoes on the stairs were spikes drilling into his ears. He heard her opening the door to her bedroom and the small part of Harry that was still thinking clearly wondered how he could have heard that?

He huddled on the floor, trying hard to make the sounds go away. He could hear the people next door talking, he could hear the bloke across the street mowing his lawn.

“Please stop _,_ ” he begged his brain, and even his own whispering voice was too loud. _Please_ , he asked again, silently.

He ran his hands along the carpet, searching for his little army man, and realized that the carpet was made of _knives_. He pulled his fingers back and curled them into his palm, but he could still feel the carpet knives under his knees and arms, and against his forehead. It made the itching worse.

Helplessly, he started to cry. Tears and snot ran down his face and he couldn’t stand the feel of it. But when he put his hand to his face, it hurt even _more_.

_Help me,_ he cried to his puppy. _Please help me._

He heard his aunt coming back down the stairs and the pain in his ears intensified. When she flung the door to the cupboard open, the light stabbed into his eyes and he cried out, pushing himself backward, further into the cupboard. It was all too much and when she grabbed his arm, he screamed.

“Stop it,” Aunt Petunia seethed and flung him into the hall. He had a glimpse of Uncle Vernon’s belt before pain exploded across his back and bottom. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the blows came harder and faster.

“Shut up, shut up!” she repeated with each blow.

“Jamie!” Harry cried out, “Jamie!”

Suddenly the puppy appeared in front of Harry, barking furiously. Aunt Petunia gave a startled cry and stumbled backward; the belt slipped from her fingers.

“Where did _that_ come from?” she screeched.

“Help me,” Harry whispered to the puppy. He started to cry again when the puppy disappeared.

The next thing he knew, he was shut back up in the cupboard and Aunt Petunia had put something on the bottom of the door so that there was no light. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed. He’d finally figured out the puppy’s name, but Jamie had left him. He was alone in the dark, no light under the door, no army men.

\------------

The feeling of something wet sliding down his back brought him out of his stupor. He reached back to try and figure out what it was, but touching was painful. He cracked his eyes open to see if maybe Aunt Petunia had opened the door, but the room remained dark. But...not completely dark. Harry could see the shelves on the wall, the shadowy shapes of bottles and cans on them. Trying not to move anything but his eyes, he scanned around the cupboard, amazed that it all seemed visible. Like looking at things in a really dim light. His eyes fell on his army man and he smiled a little.

“Hi Sarge,” he whispered so quietly that it was almost silent. “Glad t’ see you. Do you think you could go do some rec...recon...reco’niting? I don’t think I c’n move.” Slowly, so slowly, he reached out and picked up the toy, holding it gingerly between his first finger and thumb. Hot stabs of plastic pain shot through the tips of his fingers, but he didn’t drop the guy. He gently settled him down where he could see him close up.

“Aunt Petunia was really mad,” he mouthed, and it sounded like a shout in his ears. “She’s never been like that b’fore.” Harry paused to let the army man respond.

Nodding his head slightly, he said “I don’ know what’s goin’ on. Everything’s so loud, and my skin hurts and itches. I don’ know what to do.” Tears started sliding down his face. “I wish Jamie’d come back.” he closed his eyes and slipped into a pain-filled nightmare.

 


	2. Rescue

_Rescue_

Mike Daniels checked the address on his notepad for the third time. He was in the right neighborhood, but the psionic pull he was getting was coming from the wrong house. And it wasn’t the gentle pull of a new Guide, it was the frantic grasping of a powerful Sentinel, who’d lost control of his senses.

Pulling the car up in front of a pay phone on the corner, a few doors down from the house that the feeling of _Sentinel in distress_ was coming from, he dialed the Sentinel Guide Center. “Tom,” he said when the phone was answered, “I think I’ve got an emergency. I’m in the neighborhood for the new Guide, but there’s another house down the street with a Sentinel in a bad way. He’s throwing waves of pain all over the area.”

“Are you there?” Tom asked

“Yeah, the phone booth is just a few doors down. It’s bad.” Mike shot a look at the normal-looking house, with neat beds of flowers and recently mown lawn. He half expected to see blood dripping down the walls.

“Okay, I’ll send a medical team your way. Try to bring him in, even if he’s not willing. Give me the address.”

Mike rattled off the address. “I’m going in now. I’ll keep you updated.” He hung up the phone and drove back down to the house.

Just as he stepped out of the car, a tiny black wolf puppy appeared before him, barking and tugging at the hem of his trousers.

“Hey, buddy,” Mike said softly, crouching down to touch the puppy. “Where’s your Sentinel?”

Suddenly, his head snapped up and he looked over to the house. “Oh God,” he breathed in horrified realisation. The Sentinel in distress was a _child_ , and a young one at that. Striding quickly up to the house, he rapped sharply on the door.

It was pulled open by a tall, thin woman, who might have been pretty once, but her face was pinched and her eyes narrowed in a way that spoke volumes.

“What do you want?” she snapped. “I’m not buying anything.”

“Well then,” Mike replied, “it’s a good thing I’m not here to sell you something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “I’m from the local SGC and I’d like to see the child.”

She scanned the card and then handed it back. “There’s no child here,” she spat. “My Dudley is away at a friend’s house.”

Mike stepped up closer to her. “Do not lie to me. You’ve got a child in distress here and it’s my duty to find out why. If I have to go to the police in order to get into the house, you won’t like the consequences.” He leaned in until he was only inches from her face. “ _Let me in._ ”

The Guide voice settled over her and she silently held the door open for him. He walked into the hall and waited for her to close the door. “Where is he?” he asked tightly. The whole house was practically screaming in pain, but the worst of it was coming from the cupboard under the stairs.

The woman hesitated. “He’s in there,” she finally said, pointing at the cupboard. Mike wanted to take her head off, but opened the door of the cupboard instead. Shifting to his knees, he crawled inside.

A little boy of no more than four or five lay on blood-soaked carpet, a tiny plastic green army man sitting near his head. He was unconscious. Mike reached out and touched the boy, but he didn’t stir. When he started to reach for the pulse on the child’s throat, the wolf puppy appeared near his head, growling softly.

“Hey buddy, I’m here to help,” Mike told the puppy softly, holding up his hands. The puppy backed off a little and Mike took the boy’s hand instead, placing two fingers on his wrist. “There you are,” he said, as he felt the strong pulse against his fingertips.

He examined the boy visually, but didn’t move him, other than to gently lift the back of his shirt to see what had happened. The sight of the belt marks and bloody welts made him feel murderous, but they weren’t life-threatening. Most of the bleeding had stopped. He had no idea of any other physical damage that the child had suffered, nothing was readily showing, and he didn’t want to make something he didn’t see worse by shifting him around. He began backing out of the cupboard, but stopped when the boy groaned. The puppy immediately stuck his nose in the boy’s face and whimpered.

“Jamie,” the boy whispered. “You came back.” His eyes stayed firmly closed, but a hand drifted up to lightly touch the puppy. “Hurts,” he said. There was a sudden hitch in his breathing. “Is someone in here with me?” His breathing quickened. “I’m sorry Aunt Petunia. I’m sorry. I don’ know what happened. All of a sudden everything was too loud and too bright and too...hurty.” He started to cry. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Mike cast a look back at the door to see _Aunt Petunia_ standing there, glaring at the boy.

“Leave, now,” he said to her and the boy jerked.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice very low and choked with tears.

Carefully, Mike leaned a little closer. “I’m Mike,” he whispered. “I’m here to help you.”

The boy said nothing for several seconds. “Can you make it stop?” he asked. “The noise, the carpet knives?”

_Carpet knives?_ Mike thought with some confusion, but then realised that his sense of touch was so out of control that the carpet was hurting him.

“Yes,” he said, with as much assurance as he could.

The boy relaxed a little. “That’s good,” he said. “I really don’ like it.”

“How long have the noises been too loud?”

“Ummm…” the child hesitated. “Today was really bad, but I noticed that things were louder yesterday.”

Mike was shocked. He’d only just started coming online _yesterday?_

Mike settled himself a little. “Can you tell me your name?”

The boy looked confused. “I’m not sure what it is,” he admitted. “It could be Boy, or Freak, or Harry, but I think it might be Boy.”

Thick, hot anger coursed through Mike. “Why do you think that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Uncle Vernon calls me the Freak, but I think he does it ‘cuz he doesn’t like me. Aunt Petunia sometimes calls me Harry, but it may be just because my hair’s so thick and all over the place. Mostly she calls me Boy, so that must be my name.”

Mike clenched his fists and called softly. “You. _Aunt Petunia._ Get your arse in here and tell this child his name. _Now._ ”

_Aunt Petunia_ appeared at the door. “His name is Harry,” she said tightly. “Harry James Potter.”

“And how old is he?” Mike was fuming.

“He’s five. His birthday is July thirty-first.”

Mike turned back to Harry. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

Harry started to shake his head, but then stopped. “Mum and Dad?”

Petunia grimaced. “Lily and James.” Then she went back to the kitchen without another word.

Mike sighed. This was going to be so much harder than he’d hoped.

“Can we go now?” Harry asked. “You’re here to rescue me, right?” His voice sounded so hopeful.

“Yes,” Mike said. “I’m just waiting for my friend to get here to help me make sure you’re not hurt too bad to be moved, then we’ll go.”

“‘K,” Harry whispered. “I don’ like it here much.”

Yeah, Mike didn’t blame him for that at all.

“I’m going to touch you, Harry,” Mike said. “Then I’m going to send some...feelings over to you to calm down the carpet knives. Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “That would be brilliant.”

Mike laid a hand on Harry’s chest and began sending small pulses of peace and calm to Harry. Little by little, Harry started to relax, as the buffer settled on his nerves. It would do only a little, but at this point, something was better than nothing.

“Better,” Harry whispered.

“I can’t do too much,” Mike admitted. “Not until medical can look at you.”

They sat silently for a few minutes, then Mike asked, “Can you open your eyes?”

He cracked his eyes open, then shut them again immediately. “Still hurts,” Harry muttered, and Mike nodded to himself.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “What about smell?”

“No,” Harry whispered. “Don’ smell much, just something that smells like metal. It’s pretty yucky.”

“You’re smelling blood, Harry,” Mike replied. “Your back was bleeding from the whipping your aunt gave you.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “She’s never made me bleed before.”

A knock at the front door had Harry tensing up. “It’s just my friends, Harry,” Mike soothed. “They’re going to look at you and then we’ll get moving.”

Harry didn’t say anything. The only sound was his quick breathing.

“Harry?” Mike asked, and Harry jerked slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready to go.”

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

Harry shrugged, then grimaced _._ “Aunt Petunia’s on the phone with Uncle Vernon. He’s really angry.”

“Right,” Mike said. “We need to get out of here.” He started backing out of the cupboard. “I have to leave so that the doctor can come in and look at you, but I’ll be right out here. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured. “Okay.”

Mike stood and looked at Ethan Clarke, who was staring at the cupboard door in shock. Looking up at Mike, he asked, “In there?”

Mike nodded. “His name is Harry Potter and he’s five. Go easy with him: sight, touch and hearing are out of control. Little to nothing beyond normal for smell and I don’t know about taste, but probably not yet. He just came online today, although his hearing started to elevate yesterday. He’s got a spirit guide, a black wolf puppy.”

Ethan nodded, making notes on the clipboard he was carrying. “What else?”

“His aunt beat him with a belt, I’d guess as little as ninety minutes ago. There’s welts and he’s bled quite a bit, although most of the bleeding had stopped by the time I got here.”

Ethan’s fingers tightened around the pen until his knuckles turned white. Mike gently touched him and he relaxed. “Anything else?”

Mike shook his head. “Not that I could see. I didn’t move him beyond lifting his shirt. His pulse is good and he’s aware enough to have a coherent conversation.”

Ethan finished making his notes and then crouched down to enter the cupboard.

“Harry,” he said softly. “I’m Ethan, I want to come in and look at you. Is that okay?”

Harry nodded and Ethan crawled inside. He knelt next to the boy and gave him a visual look over, while also scanning him empathically. Despite Mike’s signature waves, Harry was in a great deal of pain.

“Okay, Harry, I’m going to put my hands on you. You let me know if it gets to be too much.” He waited for Harry’s nod of agreement, then slowly laid his palms on the child’s stomach. He palpated lightly, watching Harry for signs of distress. Seeing none, he moved on with the examination.

Five minutes later, he called for the stretcher. The two medics managed to maneuver it into the tight space and Ethan carefully lifted Harry into it. He watched as Harry began to relax on the smooth, tight weave of the Sentinel-friendly stretcher.

“Good,” Harry murmured. “No carpet knives.”

Ethan glanced at Mike questioningly. Make made a _later_ gesture and Ethan let it go. Quickly they got the stretcher out of the house and into the waiting van. Ethan climbed in next to him.

“Is Mike coming with me?” Harry asked.

“No, he’s going to stay here to finish up some paperwork. I’ll be here with you and Mike will meet us later. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “He was nice.”

“He’s a good chap,” Ethan agreed.

“He talked to me,” Harry said. “He told me everything he was doing. He ‘splained stuff. He found out my name.”

_What?_ Ethan was shocked, but pushed it down. “I promise to tell you everything I want to do before I do it. If you have any questions, you can ask them.”

“Really?” Harry seemed surprised. “Aunt Petunia don’ like questions. I always get smacked for asking them.”

White-hot fury washed over Ethan. “I’m not ever going to smack you, and I won’t let anyone else do it, either. I promise.”

“Okay,” Harry said, and Ethan felt relief mixed with disbelief.

“I’m going to start an IV and give you a sedative. It will calm down your senses, so that we can start helping you to manage them.”

“What’s an IV?” Harry asked.

Ethan held up a pediatric needle. “I’m going to push this needle into your arm and attach a tube to it. It will put liquids into your body to help make you get better.”

Harry cracked his eyes open and eyed the needle warily, then clamped his eyes shut again. “Will it hurt?”

“A little, but I don’t think it will be worse than what you’re feeling right now. And I’m going to help you by quieting down the pain centers in your brain, so you won’t feel as much.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “As long as you don’ make my brain explode. I get days when I’m afraid it’ll do that and I have to keep pushing on my head to make sure my brain stays inside.”

“Really?” Ethan smothered the urge to laugh. “Do you remember how long ago that started?”

“No, it was after I started dreaming about the puppy. His name is Jamie.”

Ethan watched Harry closely as he muted the pain, then tied on the tourniquet. When he slipped the needle under his skin, Harry didn’t even react.

“How often did you dream about Jamie?” Ethan asked.

“Lots. It started the first time Aunt Petunia locked me in the cupboard. I was four.”

Aunt Petunia needed to be locked up herself, Ethan decided. He added the sedative to Harry’s IV and watched as the boy drifted to sleep.

\------------

Mike handed Petunia the paperwork he’d pulled from his briefcase in the car and filled out while Ethan had worked on Harry. “Sign it,” he demanded.

She looked at the heading, then tossed it on the table. “I’m not transferring custody to the SGC.”

“Why not?” Mike growled. “It’s obvious you don’t want him.”

“There are reasons I’m required to keep him. The _Freaks_ will come looking for him.” Her hands were trembling and she was throwing off waves of fear and anger.

“Who are these Freaks?” When she hesitated, Mike pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “I’ve got all afternoon and I’m not leaving without the paperwork signed. So start explaining.”

Petunia crossed her arms and scowled at him. “I’m not obligated to explain anything to you.”

“Yes, you are…” Mike started and then turned to the front door as it opened and a hugely fat man came in.

“This had better be important, Pet,” the man said. “If it’s about that little Freak, I’m going to give him a hiding he won’t forget.”

“Your wife has already managed that,” Mike gritted out, then stood and faced what had to be _Uncle Vernon._ “I was just explaining that Petunia needs to sign the papers relinquishing custody of Harry to the Sentinel-Guide Center, or I will be calling the police and bringing charges against her for _child endangerment._ ”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Vernon stuttered. “He’s nothing but a _Freak!_ ”

“Right,” Mike said. “Maybe a few days in jail will change your wife’s mind.” He turned to gather up the papers, only to find them clutched in Petunia’s hands, anxious fear overriding the anger.

“Are you going to sign?” he asked.

“Petunia,” Vernon said warningly.

“I’m not joking,” Mike said. “Sign or jail, your choice.”

“Do you promise we’ll never have to set eyes on him again?” Petunia demanded, trying to look imperious, but failing. Her eyes kept roaming around the room, as if expecting someone to appear out of thin air.

“I can’t promise you that, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure Harry never has to be in the same room as you again.”

“Petunia,” Vernon said again. “What about…”

“Sod him, Vernon.” Petunia slapped the papers down on the table and scrawled her name. She passed the pen to Vernon and watched him sign. “That man hasn’t been here since he dropped the brat off on our doorstep. It’s obvious he doesn’t care.”

“Who dropped him off?” Mike asked. “And he left Harry on your _doorstep?_ Do I need to have him arrested?”

Petunia made a disdainful sound. “You’d never manage it. It’s Albus Dumbledore who did it and it’s his fault that we got stuck with the brat. As far as I’m concerned, that man can just burn in Hell.”

Mike stared at her in astonishment. “Albus Dumbledore?”

“You know him?” Petunia asked, her eyes bugging out. “Are you one of the _Freaks?_ ”

“No, I’m not a wizard,” Mike sighed. “But, yeah, unfortunately I do know who Dumbledore is. Tell me what he did.”

Vernon was turning an alarming shade of purple, apparently at the word _wizard_. “He dumped that freak off on our doorstep in the middle of the night on Halloween, with a _note_ that told us that the freak’s parents had been killed and we needed to raise him now.”

Mike’s eyebrows went up. “He didn’t knock on the door and talk to you personally? He didn’t get your permission to leave Harry here?”

“No!” Petunia snarled. “He just dumped the kid and left. And the man hasn’t been back since.”

“He’s just afraid we’d give him back.” Vernon said scathingly.

“Right.” Mike said faintly. “Listen, I have some additional paperwork that’s going to need to be filled out because of the...situation...with Dumbledore. Can I come back to see you tomorrow?”

Petunia waved her hand in dismissal. “As long as we’re done with that boy for good, you can bring anything you need.”

“Thank you.” Mike left the house, but spent a few minutes sitting in his car, trying to decide what to do.  He picked up his notepad and jotted down a few thoughts. He needed to get in contact with someone from the Wizarding world to help with this situation, but whom could he call? Who could be trusted? He didn’t know enough about the Wizarding world in Britain to make that kind of decision.

He had a really bad feeling about leaving the Dursleys with their knowledge of where Harry had gone. Any wizard could compel the answer out of them, and if the kid had been dumped on a doorstep by _Albus Dumbledore_ , then there was a lot more going on than just a distressed Sentinel in a cupboard. With a sigh, he started the car and drove out of the neighborhood. The center would have to send someone else to deal with the new Guide; he had a frightened little boy to take care of.


	3. Hospital

_Hospital_

Mike made up his mind about whom he needed to call halfway to the SGC medical center, so made a short detour to his flat to make a phone call. Once inside, he called his brother-in-law’s number.

It was picked up after a half dozen rings. “Yeah, what,” a gruff voice with an American accent said.

“Hey Derek, it’s Mike.”

“You do know it’s _really_ early here in Texas, brother. This had better be good,” Derek Wright’s sleepy voice groused.

“Seven a.m. is not _that_ early,” MIke replied sarcastically. “Just because you like to stay up until all hours, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“Midnight doesn’t qualify as _all hours._ Besides, I had a case I was finishing up.”

“A likely excuse.” Mike could hear the rustle of sheets and then running water. “How are things with the wizard cops?”

Derek laughed. “A shit pile, as usual. I hate politics.”

“And yet, you choose to continue to play in the pile.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s got to pay the bills.” There were some bumps and bangs and Derek swore under his breath. “Okay, I got some jeans on, we can talk now.”

Mike laughed. “You can’t talk in just your underwear?”

“Not to you,” Derek replied. “You ain’t pretty enough.”

“Good to know,” Mike said dryly. “Listen, I need your help with something.”

There was a pause. “Figured you did, otherwise you’d have called Anne first.”

Mike snorted. “Too true. I got a _special case_ this afternoon that has some ties to the wizard world and I have no idea who in Britain to call about this.”

Derek sighed. “Yeah, the whole war thing is a mess over there, even nearly four years later. Would it help if I came to see you in person?”

“Yeah, it would. Can you come today?”

“Hmmm…” There was the sound of paper being shuffled around. “I can probably get a Portkey and be there in a few hours.”

“Sounds good. Meet me at the SGC medical center. We can talk in one of the private rooms. You should also plan to stay overnight.”

“Will do. See you then.” The phone went dead.

\------------

Harry was still asleep when Mike walked into the isolation room. He closed the door as he entered and listened for a minute to the quiet hum of the white noise generators and air filters.  “How’s he doing?”

Ethan looked up from the clipboard he was scribbling notes on. “Good so far. His vitals are stable and we got him cleaned up and his back looked at. He didn’t need any stitches, so that’s a positive.”

“But?”

“He’s got a severe rash on his forehead, forearms and knees. That could take as long to heal as the welts on his back.”

Mike lightly brushed the hair off of Harry’s forehead. It was an angry red and covered with deep red bumps. “It’s from the carpet knives.” At Ethan’s confused look he explained, “I think his sense of touch was turned up so high that the carpet fibers felt like knives. He called them that.”

“That makes sense.” Ethan made another note on the clipboard.

“Did you do an empathic scan?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not yet, I was waiting for you. I didn’t think Harry would be comfortable with a bunch of strangers running around in his head.”

Mike laughed shortly. “Because we’re certainly not strangers.”

“You know what I mean.” Ethan set down the clipboard, then stood near Harry’s head. Mike went to stand at his other side. Ethan started the scan, while Mike worked on putting a psionic damper on Harry’s senses. That way when he woke, his senses would be easier for him to control and Mike could spend the time needed to teach Harry how to regulate his senses and build a shield.

Once they were finished, Mike sat down in the chair next to the bed. Ethan went out into the hall and grabbed one of the chairs. When he’d brought it in and sat down, he asked, “The scan was about what I expected. All of his senses are completely out of whack.”

“The damper will help with that.” Mike ran a finger gently down Harry’s arm, then pulled his fingers open. “He’s got a little bit of the rash on his fingers and palm.”

“I know. There’s a note of it in the file. Did you get the paperwork signed?”

Mike sighed. “Yes, but there’re some _complications_ that I can’t get into. I had to call and get someone to come help me.”

“Complications?” Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. It turns out that Harry is _special._ ” Mike looked at Ethan for a long moment. “I called Derek. He’s going to be here this evening.”

“Your brother-in-law? How will he be able to help? Doesn’t he live in Texas? Oh, wait.” Ethan leaned forward. “Does this have to do with the people Derek works with?” he asked quietly.

“It’s possible. Turns out that this young man was abandoned on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the middle of the night in November by someone from the British side of Derek’s community.”

Ethan let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell. I hate him already and don’t even know who he is.”

“He’s a powerful bloke, so I need to take all the precautions I can. Seems Harry is in some danger.” Mike reached into a pocket and pulled out a little green plastic army figure. He set it on the rolling table and moved it so that it would be the first thing Harry saw when he woke.

“Did you ask the center to send a bonded pair to keep an eye on the Dursleys?”

“No.” Ethan raised an eyebrow at that and Mike laughed. “I don’t think that they’d be able to do anything to stop...well, you know.”

“No, probably not,” Ethan agreed with a sigh. “What are you going to ask Derek to do?”

“I don’t know yet. I didn’t want to say anything to him over the phone, so he’s coming in blind. All he knows is that I need help from someone with his _unique_ abilities. I’ll know more after I tell him the details and have him assess the situation.” Mike opened the drawer in the table beside the bed and pulled out a ratty paperback with a half-dressed woman on the cover. “I’m going to sit here until the kid wakes up, so you can go do your regular stuff.”

“Thanks,” Ethan stood and straightened his lab coat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Mike waved a hand at him, then opened the book. It fell open right at the beginning of a lurid sex scene. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

\------------

The first thing Harry thought when he was able to think again was, _My name is Harry. I’m five_. It was such a wonderful thing to know that he repeated it to himself several times. He was a _person_ , not a freak.

The second thing he thought was, _where am I_? Cuz he knew he wasn’t in his cot, or in the cupboard, or anywhere else that he normally landed. What he was lying on was comfy and soft and didn’t feel anything like what he was used to feeling.

He stretched out his fingers and ran them over the soft, soft thing that was covering him. Was it a blanket? And could he keep it? He gathered some of it up in a fist and, with a deep breath, cracked his eyes open. The first thing he saw was…

“Sarge,” he croaked. “‘M glad you made it. Is this heav’n?”

“I’m afraid not, Harry,” an amused voice next to him said, and Harry jumped. Turning his head slightly, he looked at the dark-skinned man sitting next to him. “It’s just the hospital.”

The voice was familiar. “Mike?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me. How are you feeling?” Mike leaned forward and placed a hand on Harry’s arm.

“Better,” Harry said, then blurted, “I like the blanket.”

Mike’s eyes went to the fist full of light blue, Sentinel-friendly blanket that Harry was clutching and nodded. “I see that. I’ll make sure that it stays with you.”

“Really?” Harry’s insides lit up and he couldn’t help smiling. It felt...weird. He couldn’t ‘member the last time he was happy enough to smile for real.

“Really,” Mike said and smiled, but Harry thought the smile was a little sad. He knew those kinds of smiles.

“C’n I have a drink of water?” Harry asked. Mike had been nice to him, so he didn’t _think_ he’d say no. When Mike held up a glass with a straw in it, Harry took a long sip.

“That’s enough,” Mike said gently. “I don’t want you to drink so much that you get sick. You can have more in a few minutes.”

“‘K,” Harry said, then looked at Mike for a long time. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Your hearing?”

Harry nodded, just a tiny bit. His brain still felt funny and he didn’t want to chance moving too much in case it tried to escape. “And touching. The carpet knives are gone.”

“Do you remember Ethan?” Mike asked.

“A little,” Harry replied cautiously. “He stuck the needle in my arm.”

Mike laughed. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s good at things like that. He and I put a shield on you so that your senses wouldn’t be out of control.”

“Oh.” Harry raised his free hand and poked at his forehead. “Is that why my brain feels funny?”

“Funny how?” Mike gently stroked Harry’s arm and Harry could feel little waves of _calm_ flowing over him.

“Like...like it’s all wrapped up and tied down, but underneath, it’s fighting a little.” Harry closed his eyes for a moment. “Like it’s trying to break out.”

“Oh God,” Mike said under his breath. Harry didn’t think he was meant to hear, but he did. He could also feel a little bit of worry along with the calm.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, trying to panic, but not _quite_ able to. “Am I gonna die?”

“No!” Mike said vehemently, then Harry watched him calm down. He actually _saw_ him push the worry away, which was just more _weird_ on top of everything else. “No. It’s just that you shouldn’t be able to feel the shield. It means you’re stronger than we thought.”

“Stronger how?” Harry asked, ‘cuz he didn’t _feel_ strong. He felt weak, and little, and his back was hurty.

“Do you know what a Sentinel is, Harry?” Mike asked.

“Um...yeah, I think so. I seen stuff on TV about them. They help people, don’ they?” He thought about it for a minute. What had he seen? It was hard to ‘member, ‘cuz Aunt Petunia didn’t like him watching TV, and the only time he got to look was when he was helping her clean, and she was watching her _stories_. “They catch bad guys and they have…’hanced senses. I don’ know what that means.” He thought about it some more. “On Aunt Petunia’s stories, they always got some bloke walking around with squinty eyes and he’s yellin’ about seein’ stuff that no one else can.”

Mike stared at him for a long time, then burst out laughing. “Of course the only place you’d have seen any Sentinels would have been on the daytime soaps.” He put a hand over his eyes. “Jesus, this is…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but Harry knew that it was bad.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked worriedly, picking up his army man and holding him close to his chest. If they were going to put him in the cupboard, he wanted to make sure that Sarge came with him.

“No, no,” Mike said quickly, pushing more _calm_ at him. “You’re not in trouble. Not at all.”

“O...kay…” Harry said doubtfully. He could _feel_ that Mike was telling the truth, but he really didn’t trust those feelings. He’d been wrong about so many things in the past, and those things usually led to him getting a spanking.

“I promise,” Mike said and then, seeing that Harry didn’t quite believe him, held out his hand. “We can shake on it. You know a gentleman always keeps his word.”

That made Harry laugh and he dropped the blanket long enough to put his hand in Mike’s much larger one. Mikes fingers folded around Harry’s, engulfing them completely. Then Mike let go, Harry went back to holding the blanket. But he kept Sarge in his other hand, just in case.

\------------

Mike left Harry with Ethan when Derek showed up. It was early evening and a petite blond nurse had brought Harry a dinner tray. The way Harry had looked when the food was placed in front of him had been heartbreaking. He was surprised, then suspicious.

“Is this all for me?” he’d asked.

“Yes, Harry,” Ethan had replied. “It’s all yours. Eat as much or as little as you want.”

Harry had given Mike a side-eyed look, his hand hovering over the fork. Mike had nodded and said, “Eat. No one will take it away from you.”

Still radiating suspicion, Harry had picked up the fork and put a tiny bite of mashed potatoes in his mouth.

That was when the door had opened and Derek had stuck his head in. He looked at Harry for a moment and then at Mike, who followed him out into the corridor.

“Is that the _special case?_ ” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Mike replied. He looked around at the nurses bustling around and the doctor moving from room to room. “Let’s go find someplace private for this.”

Derek just raised an eyebrow and made an _after you_ gesture. Mike led him down the hall to a small conference room. Shutting the door activated the privacy protocols, so Mike pushed the lock on the handle and sat down at the small table. After Derek settled across from him, he started speaking.

“I have a five-year-old, who came online as a Sentinel today. But I also think he’s a wizard.”

Derek leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Okay, I want to say that’s really unlikely, but tell me the rest.”

“His name is Harry Potter and I…” He stopped when Derek jerked forward. “What?”

“ _Harry Potter_?” he demanded. “Are you certain? I mean like one hundred percent sure?”

“His aunt said that’s his name.”

“Did she say when his birthday is?” Derek was on his feet, so Mike stood also.

“Yeah, um…” He struggled to remember. “End of July, I think. Ethan will have it written on the chart.”

“Shit on a stick, Mike,” Derek hissed, scrubbing a hand over his face and close-cropped hair. “This is bad. This is so fucking bad.”

“Bad how?” Mike asked.

Derek blew out a breath. “I don’t even know where to begin.” He sat back down in the chair and put his elbows on the table, lowering his head into his hands. “Tell me the rest.”

\------------

Harry was aware that Mike had left the room, but he was too focused on the food to care. There was _so much_ of it that he didn’t even know where to start. He ate the mashed potatoes first, ‘cuz those didn’t require chewing, so he could get them down faster. Then he ate the carrots. He didn’t care much for the taste of them, but his tummy liked them and that was what counted. Then he ate the pudding. It was chocolate cake and so sweet that it burst across his tongue in waves. He closed his eyes and moaned a little.

“Is everything okay, Harry?” Ethan asked and Harry popped his eyes back open. Ethan wasn’t close enough to take the food away, so he relaxed.

“I like the pudding.” Harry admitted. “I’ve never had anything like it b’fore.”

Ethan looked surprised. “Never?”

“No, Aunt Petunia said she wasn’t going to waste good puddings on me. They was for Dudley.”

“I see.” Ethan looked angry, which made Harry tense up and slide the food tray closer. He picked up the chicken leg and took a bite. Then another, but after that he wasn’t as hungry anymore, so he picked up the little carton of milk and tried to get it to open. He struggled with it for a minute before finally putting it back on the tray in defeat.

“I can’t open it,” he admitted, a little bit ashamed at being so weak.

“Would you like me to do it for you?” Ethan asked, but he didn’t move to come closer.

“You won’ take it away?” Harry asked, gripping the edge of the tray.

“No, Harry, it’s all yours.”

“‘K.” Harry was still suspicious, but let Ethan pick up the milk carton. He opened the end and slid a straw in, then handed it back. Harry drank it, his eyes never leaving Ethan.

When he’d finished and set it back on the tray, he asked, “When’s Mike comin’ back?”

“Soon,” Ethan said. “He has to talk to someone about some stuff.”

Harry nodded. “Stuff about me,” he said, and it was not a question.

“Yes,” Ethan confirmed. “They’re trying to figure out some things about your aunt and uncle.”

Harry’s tummy clenched, and suddenly all the food in it got wriggly and kinda wanted to come back out. “Are you going to put me back with them?” he asked, feeling tears starting to puddle up in his eyes.

“Oh no, Harry, no,” Ethan said, coming to stand next to him and putting a hand on his arm. Harry could feel the waves of _calm_ coming from Ethan. “You’re not ever going back there.”

Harry nodded, but his insides didn’t believe it. He wanted to throw up, but that would be wasting all the food they’d given him, so he forced it to stay inside. Who knew when he’d get to eat again?

\------------

Derek paced the room, rage pouring out of him. Mike watched him from his chair, trying to fill the room with as many soothing emotions as he could.

“That bastard!” he said, and turned to glare at Mike. “How dare he do that to a _baby_! And Harry Potter, no less!”

Mike watched him continue to pace. “Care to tell me the significance of this child being _Harry Potter_?”

Derek threw himself in the chair and beat his fists on the table a few times. Mike’s attempt to calm him down was having limited effect. At least he hadn’t punched holes in the walls. Yet. “Remember what I told you about the war? About the dark wizard that no one dared to name?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. He was killed a few years ago, right?”

“Right. The story is that he was defeated by a toddler. That the dark wizard threw the killing curse at him after killing his parents and he _survived_. That the killing curse rebounded and killed the wizard instead.” Derek blew out a breath. “And that toddler was…”

“Harry Potter,” Mike finished, his voice faint with astonished disbelief.

“Yeah,” Derek laughed bitterly. “The kid disappeared after that night, and no one knows where he went. And now...you’re telling me that you have a five-year-old boy with the same name in your hospital and he’s a _Sentinel_.”

 _Oh yes,_ Mike thought. _This is bad._


	4. Forgotten

_Forgotten_

“Okay,” Mike said wearily. “To start with, how likely is it that the story is true? Did Harry Potter survive the killing curse?”

“I have no idea,” Derek said. “The rumors reached Dallas a few months after the fact. I did a little investigating in my free time, but there’s no real proof, because no one supposedly survived in that house other than Harry.”

“Uh-huh,” Mike said skeptically. “So where did the rumors come from then, if no one was there?”

“Dumbledore sent his groundskeeper, a half-giant named Hagrid, to rescue Harry. Apparently, Hagrid is incapable of keeping a secret.”

“Okay,” Mike replied. “How did Dumbledore know what happened?”

Derek sighed. “I have no idea.”

“Right,” Mike declared. “Dumbledore is obviously not trustworthy. Is there anyone else that _might_ be trusted with what’s happened here today?”

Derek shook his head. “I doubt it. When the war ended, everyone seemed to be on one of three sides, the dark wizard’s side, Dumbledore’s side or the government's side. I don’t think I’d trust any of them.”

Mike waved a hand. “We need to think about this later. Right now, the question is how do we verify that this is actually _the_ Harry Potter?”

“The rumors going around are that he’s got a scar on his forehead. It’s supposed to look like a lightning bolt.” Derek drew a jagged line on a piece of paper he pulled out of his pocket. “The talk is that it’s a curse scar from that night.”

Mike eyed the drawing. “It’s going to be hard to tell if it’s there or not. He’s got a nasty rash on his forehead.”

Derek nodded. “I saw that. Won’t hurt to take a look, though. And we could ask him.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t know. His aunt was such a bitch, it’s possible that she never let him look in a mirror.”

Derek tapped the pen on the paper. “Right. I was going to get a healing potion for him anyway, but I might be able to rush and get it this evening. It’s more likely that it will be tomorrow morning, but I can give it a try.” He paused for a moment. “Also, you should know that the healing potion won’t work on him if he isn’t a wizard, and there’s a good chance that if Harry’s a Sentinel that any magical ability he may have had will be gone. It’s _very_ rare to have someone who is both.”

“How rare?” Mike asked.

“There are records of only three wizards who were also Sentinels in the last hundred years, and as far as I know, there are none alive today. Harry would have to be extremely powerful to handle both and that’s almost impossible in a child so young.”

“What about Guides?”

Derek shrugged. “There are a few of those. Not many, maybe one percent of the Wizarding population. Most of them do what they can to hide the fact that they’re Guides, because they tend to be very strong magically, which scares the general Wizarding population. There are rumors that Grindelwald was a Guide, but nobody knows for sure.”

“Grindelwald was the dark wizard before this last one, right?” Mike answered.

“Right,” Derek replied. “He was defeated in a duel by Dumbledore.”

“Shite,” Mike murmured.

“Exactly.” Derek folded his arms across his chest. “And if we are able to verify that he’s Harry Potter? What the next step?”

“You have a way to make people forget things, don’t you?” Mike asked. “The Dursleys know where Harry is and I’m afraid that Dumbledore will realise that he’s not at their house anymore and come looking for him.”

“Yeah. I can take care of that.” Derek wrote a word on the paper, then underlined it. _Obliviate._

Mike looked at it, then raised his eyes. “What does it do?”

One side of Derek’s mouth tilted up. “It deletes certain memories. We use it quite a bit when the Muggles see things they shouldn’t. The best story I have is of a little Muggleborn girl who had a severe bout of accidental magic at her sixth birthday party. She was convinced that she was going to get a pony and when she got a bicycle instead, she had a temper tantrum that turned everyone’s hair orange and purple. We had to bring in a dozen Aurors to Obliviate thirty-five adults and seventeen children in one afternoon. It was a nightmare.”

Mike chuckled. “I can only imagine.” He picked up the paper and fiddled with it. “Is it reversible?”

“Sometimes, if the caster is careless, or inexperienced, and doesn’t get all of the memories, or just hides them. I haven’t had a problem with anything like that since I was in the Auror Academy.”

“Yeah, having a wizard cop for a brother-in-law has its advantages.” Mike handed the paper back to Derek and he pocketed it. “Let’s go talk to Harry.”

Derek held out a hand. “Before we do that, I want to know, do you have plans for Harry’s care? If we Obliviate his relatives, he’ll have no place to go. And if he isn’t magical, he’ll have no ties to that world. I agree with you about not returning Harry to that environment, but you need to have an alternative in place.”

Mike nodded. “I’ll be working on it over the next few days. Ethan and I have both promised him that he won’t ever go back to the Dursleys, and I’m not letting the SGC keep him. That would be too much like leaving him at an orphanage. The custody papers are interim, so I’ll need to place him somewhere within the next ninety days. Most bonded pairs would be willing to take him, but with the possibility of him being a wizard, that could be problematic. I’ll take him myself, if need be.”

“Good,” Derek said firmly. “Let’s go.”

“Try to keep your emotions in control,” Mike said as he led the way out the door. “He’s probably going to say some things about his home life that will infuriate you. Don’t let him see that, because you’ll frighten him, and he’s very fragile right now. He doesn’t understand why his senses are out of control and he’s terrified that we’ll send him back to the Dursleys’.”

“I’ll do my best,” Derek promised.

\-----------

Harry woke from a doze when Mike came back in the room. “Hi,” he muttered, his eyes slitted open. “You came back.”

“I told you I would,” Mike said, reaching out and laying a hand on Harry’s arm. “I want you to meet someone.” He waved Derek into the room. “This is Derek Wright.

Harry shifted his gaze to the man standing near the door. Dark-skinned like Mike, he was taller and wider in the shoulders. There was something about the man that Harry thought was int’ersting. A kind of glow around him. “You look funny,” he said.

“Is that right?” The man looked startled. “Funny how?” he asked, coming into the room. His voice was deep and...comf’tble. Harry liked it.

“You’re glowing.” He wiggled his fingers a little. “Blue.”

Mike looked at the other man, then back at Harry. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Yeah, I like his voice.” Harry yawned. “Where’s Sarge?”

Mike reached for the toy and placed it in Harry’s hand. “It looks like Sarge has a hand missing,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “He was wounded in battle.”

“Really? How did that happen?” Mike sat down and leaned forward.

“Dudley bit his hand off. I get all the wounded soldiers.”

“Do you have many toys?” Mike asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. “Nope, I don’t have any of my own. I just get to play with the broken ones that Dudley doesn’t want any more. But they’re his toys. He takes them back if he thinks I like them too much.”

Mike sat back abruptly, not sure how to respond to that. Instead, he looked back at Derek, who was frowning slightly. He waved him forward and the frown was replaced with a slight smile. “Derek is my brother-in-law and he lives in America. He’s got some special abilities and he wants to ask you some questions.”

“Um...okay.” Harry looked at Derek again. He wasn’t lookin’ mean or anything, so it prob’ly wasn’t bad.

“Harry,” Derek said in that deep voice. “Can I look at your forehead?”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. He placed a hand on his head, and pushed his fringe back. “You wanna see my scar?”

“Yes, I do.” Derek came close to the bed and leaned over Harry. “Yep, you have a scar. Do you know how you got it?”

“Aunt Petunia says that I got it in a car crash. Daddy was drunk and he and Mum got killed.”

Harry watched Derek get angry. Suddenly his nice blue glow started turning red along the edges and his face got scrunchy. He tried to wriggle back on the bed, but the tube in his arm stopped him from going too far.

“Sorry!” he cried. “Sorry, sorry! I’ll be good!”

“Derek!” Mike called out sharply. “Go stand in the hall.”

Derek turned and left the room without another word. Harry started to cry. “What’d I do? I didn’t mean it!”

“Nothing, little one, nothing,” Mike sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Harry into his arms. Harry felt warm pulses of good feelings wash over him. “Shhh, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mike held him until he stopped cryin’. It was amazing and Harry wanted it to go on f’rever. When Derek let him go, he thought about trying to cling to him, but decided not to. There was prob’ly a limit on how much attention he deserved.

“Derek wasn’t upset at you, Harry,” Mike explained when he was back in the chair by the bed. “He was upset that your aunt told you that your dad was drunk and caused an accident.”

Derek came back into the room, but stayed by the door. “Which is not true, by the way. Your parents were good people and your dad would never do something so terrible.”

Harry scrubbed one hand over his face. “How do you know?” he asked. “Did you know my mum and dad?”

“No.” Derek shook his head. “I didn’t, but they were pretty well known in my...community. I knew them by reputation.”

“In ‘Merica?” Harry asked curiously. “What was they doin’ there? And what’s rep...reput…”

“Reputation?” Harry nodded and Derek took another step into the room. “It means that they were well known and they were known for doing good things.”

“They weren’t in America,” Mike added. “The community that Derek belongs to is in a lot of countries.”

“Oh,” Harry thought about this. “So...are you here ‘cuz you think I belong to this...commu’ty?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Derek said. “Mike and Ethan are trying to help you and that means figuring out all the places you belong.”

“Don’ belong nowhere,” Harry muttered. “‘Cept the cupboard.”

Mike sighed. “No, Harry, you don’t belong in the cupboard, and you’re never going back there.”

\------------

“Well?” Mike demanded after he and Derek had left Harry and sequestered themselves in the private room again.

“Yeah, he’s Harry Potter. The scar was visible even through the rash.” Derek banged his head on the wall he was leaning against. “And he’s definitely magical. He saw my aura. Most _fully grown_ wizards are not powerful enough for that.”

“Shite,” Mike muttered. “Now what do we do?”

“Well, the first thing we’re going to do is take care of the Dursleys. They need to forget everything as soon as possible. Then...well, we’ll figure it out. I don’t know if it will be safe to leave him here in Britain. Once Dumbledore finds out he’s missing, I imagine he’ll do everything he can to find him.”

Mike nodded. “He probably will, so moving him out of the country is likely the best option, but I don’t know if I want to turn him over to more strangers. He’s had far too many of those in his life today.”

“Well…” Derek blew out a breath. “You told me you were willing to take him. Were you serious about that?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t know who else I could trust with him, except you and Ethan, and Ethan won’t leave Britain.”

“How would you feel about moving to America?” Derek lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Seriously?” Mike asked, incredulous.

“I know Anne would love to have you. She’s constantly trying to come up with ways to entice you to move.”

“It’s definitely something to think about,” Mike agreed. “But won’t there be a problem with a black man raising a white child?” He shrugged at Derek’s look. “You know it could be an issue.”

“Anne and I live in one of the magical cities right outside of Dallas. We’ll set you up there and tell everyone you’re raising an orphan from the war. No one will question it, or even care. The magical world just doesn’t work that way.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mike blew out a breath. “I’ll need to see about transferring my job to the SGC in Dallas. I think that would be easy enough, and it would be a good cover story that I asked for the transfer to be closer to my sister and nieces.”

Derek grinned. “Anne is going to be delighted.”

\------------

They arrived after midnight and the house was dark and quiet. As they passed onto the property, Derek tilted his head slightly. “There are some powerful wards here.”

“Wards?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, they’re used for various things, depending on what you want.” He pulled his wand and made a few sharp movements. “The main wards around this property were placed to keep certain people out and to hide anything that happened here from the neighbors. There’s a few minor wards wrapped up in the main wards.” He paused at the doorstep. “Huh. It seems the wards here are blood based. That’s _very_ unusual.”

Mike latched on to the only part he found important. “So we won’t need to worry about the neighbors seeing anything this afternoon?”

“No,” Derek shook his head. “And while that’s good for us, imagine what could have been going on in this house and no one would have noticed.”

Mike shuddered as Derek pointed his wand at the door.  “Alohomora,” he whispered, and Mike heard the deadbolt slide back.  He grinned at Derek’s back, because watching magic just never got old.

The inside of the house was lit by a faint light coming from the kitchen, and another coming from upstairs, so Derek lowered his wand, but kept it in his hand. At the top of the stairs, they stopped in the first bedroom. It was a tiny room with a rickety cot in the corner, holding a dirty mattress and ratty blanket. Under the cot was a small box with a few toys in it, all broken.

“I don’t want to stop at memory charming these _people_ ,” Derek gritted out between clenched teeth, as they opened the dresser to find clothes Mike wouldn’t give a homeless person. “This is unconscionable!”

The next bedroom was obviously another child’s room, but the opposite of the one they’d just left. Toys and clothes were scattered everywhere, and there was a full sized bed under the window. The lump under the lightweight summer blanket told of a second child.

They moved to the side of the bed and saw a chubby little boy in blue pyjamas. “Do we want to take the memories from him?” Mike whispered.

Derek nodded. “If there’s even a chance that his parents told him anything about today, we’ll need to remove them.” He waved his wand purposefully over the boy’s head and muttered something Mike didn’t catch. After a minute he lowered the wand. He stood looking at the boy for a long moment, then turned and left the room without a word.

Petunia and Vernon Dursley were asleep when they entered their dark room. Mike retreated to the hall and flipped the light switch, so that some light filtered into the room.  Derek quickly took care of Vernon, but Petunia roused when he came around to her side of the bed. She squeaked, then opened her mouth to yell, but he quickly said, “Silencio”, and though her mouth continued to move, no sound came out of it. He rapidly followed this up with “Stupify”, then “Obliviate”.

After a short search of the house to make sure that all evidence of the SGC’s visit had been removed, and a thorough Scourgify of the cupboard under the stairs, they were back outside. Derek’s wand was hidden away up the sleeve of his shirt, Mike had three wounded army men and the business card he’d given Petunia earlier that day tucked inside his shirt pocket. The copies of the paperwork that the Dursleys had signed were wadded up in his hand. They walked to the end of the block where they had parked the car. It was near the park and away from any lampposts, so the dark color was nearly invisible in the spot they’d chosen.

“The contrast between Harry and the other boy was striking,” Mike said after a brief silence.

“I know,” Derek replied. “That there would be such disparity between the two is kind of shocking. It’s beyond my comprehension that there are people like this in the world. I mean…I know there are bad parents, but to actually come face to face with them is not something I ever wanted to do.”

“You must deal with abused kids at your job.” Mike looked at Derek curiously.

“No, that’s another division of the MLE. I’m involved mostly with catching criminals.”

“And Obliviating,” Mike snickered as he reached into his pocket for his keys.

“Yeah, that too,” Derek laughed with him. “Although I’m usually only called in on those when they need more help than that department can handle.”

Mike unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel. When they were well on their way back to the SGC, Mike asked, “How much of their memories did you take?”

“I only removed what happened today. It would be too difficult to take all of Harry’s time with them, and it could lead to severe brain damage.” He laughed bitterly. “Not that I’m really opposed to that, but when it’s discovered that Harry is missing, they’ll be more likely to blame the Dursleys for losing him, because the memory loss of a few hours won’t be as obvious as losing years and an entire person. The Dursleys will remember Harry, but won’t know what happened to him. And a side bonus will be that if Dumbledore decides to go digging around in their heads, he’ll see all the abuse they’ve done to him.”

“I suppose the question is, will he care?”

Derek rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know,” he replied sadly. “I want to say yes, but someone who would do the things he did...yeah, probably not too much.”

The rest of the drive was done in silence.


	5. Leaving the country

_Leaving the Country_

When Harry woke that morning, his brain still had the funny blanket feel, but he didn’t _think_ that it was working any slower. He still felt as smart as he usu’lly did, it was just that the blanket was keeping his brain from sending too much feeling to his skin and too much light to his eyes. It was weird, but the blanket felt like Mike, so that was okay.

He opened his eyes to see Derek standing next to the bed with a funny shaped bottle and Mike just coming into the room and closing the door.

Derek pulled the little stopper out of the bottle and handed it to him. “You need to drink all of it,” he said.

“What’s it do?” he asked.

“Hopefully, it will make the rash go away and help the welts on your back heal faster.” Derek took the bottle and slipped it into a pocket.

“How’s it do that?” He pulled himself into a sitting position and Mike quickly moved to raise the head of the bed up for him, which was just awesome. He wanted a bed that moved like that for his very own.

“Well, Harry, that’s part of what Mike and I want to talk to you about after breakfast.”

Harry swallowed the drink without complaint, but it was the most horrible thing he’d ever tasted, and that included the liver that Aunt Petunia had made him eat one time. He couldn’t stop his face from showing that he didn’t like it, though.

Derek laughed as he handed him a glass of water, which Harry drank as quickly as he could to make the taste go away. “I make the same face when I have to take it too,” he said, which made Harry feel better about it.

One of the nurses came in with a tray of food and Harry watched with wide eyes as it was set down in front of him and the lid lifted away. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I ate last night.”

She smiled at him, which was really nice. “You get food three times a day while you’re here. No exceptions.”

“Oh, wow,” Harry breathed. “That’s just...wow.”

The nurse gave Mike a funny look and Mike shrugged, then nodded. Harry couldn’t figure out what that meant, so he returned his attention to the tray and looked at all the food. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a bowl of fruit sat directly in front of him. A little box of cereal sitting in a plastic bowl, a carton of milk and another of juice were on the back part of the tray. His fingers shook a little as he reached for his fork and he sternly told them to _stop doing that._

He glanced over at Mike as he gripped the fork and saw him sitting back in his chair, watching him with a smile. Relieved, he turned back to his food.

Mike watched Harry eat, which made Harry think that he was going to take the tray away from him, so he ate faster.

“Slow down, Harry,” Mike said. “I don’t want you to be sick from eating so fast.”

Harry stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth, which made the eggs tumble off and drop down the front of him. He looked down at the mess on his lap in horror, then back up at Mike. His eyes wanted to cry, but he forced the tears back in.

“It’s okay,” Mike soothed. He came over and began picking up the eggs and dropping them into the bin. Derek came out with a flannel and helped clean him up. He didn’t know how to feel about it, so he just sat there while his brain went completely silent. He couldn’t remember anyone doing something like this before.

“There,” Derek said when he was finished. “You’re as good as new.”

“Wh...why…” Harry’s mouth was not working, along with his brain, and he couldn’t make the words come out. This made the tears come back and this time he couldn’t stop them from sliding down his face.

Mike perched on the edge of the bed. “What is it?” he asked and his voice sounded worried.

Harry shook his head and looked away. He couldn’t answer.

“Harry,” Mike said and gripped Harry’s chin, gently turning his face back to look at Mike. “We are going to take care of you. You deserve it. We’re not going to abandon you, or give you back to your aunt and uncle. Do you believe me?”

Harry nodded, then shook his head again. “Don’ know,” he choked out.

“It’s okay,” Mike murmured to him. “We’ll prove it to you. We’ve got time.”

Harry buried his face in Mike’s chest. It felt wonderful.

\------------

“We need to talk about what’s going to happen after you’re out of the hospital,” Mike said after Harry had settled down and finished his breakfast.

Harry stiffened and picked up Sarge, gripping him tightly. Mike understood that this was his way of preparing for the worst and reached into his pocket for the other toys. “I brought you some of Sarge’s friends.” He placed them on the table in front of Harry and he eagerly reached for them.

“Look Sarge, the rest of the comp’ny is here!” Harry exclaimed happily. His shoulders relaxed as he laid the little plastic men on his lap, touching each one carefully.

Mike reached for Harry’s hand, but then backed off when he stiffened. With an inward sigh he said, “There are many things I need to explain and I’m going to make you some promises, but first, I want to help you learn how to tell a lie from the truth.”

Harry side-eyed him, which Mike found very amusing. “I kind of know how to do that,” he said nervously. “When you was talking to me yesterday, I could feel you tellin’ the truth.”

“Really?” Mike settled back in his chair. “This is very good news.”

“Is it?” Harry asked, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Mike said firmly. “Very good. Now first, I’m going to take you through a series of statements. You’ll tell me after each one if you think it’s the truth or not.”

“Okay,” Harry said.

Mike started by making a couple of outrageous statements that were obviously false.

“The sky is green.”

Harry giggled. “Lie.”

“Did you already know that’s a lie or were you trying to feel it?” Mike studied Harry’s face.

“Already knew, but you had this little wiggle inside of you.”

“Good, let’s try this. My name is Jane.”

Harry gave him an exasperated look. “You gots to try harder than that.”

“Right,” Mike drawled. “You are a good boy.”

Harry looked at him a long time. “Your wiggle says you’re tellin’ the truth.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

Harry shrugged. “You don’ know me good enough yet.”

“I think I do. You’re frightened about the future, but you’re not going to ask about it.” Mike leaned forward. “But you’re also brave, because you’ll face whatever it is and learn to deal with the outcome.”

Harry flushed and turned his head away. “I…”

“Is that the truth, Harry?” Mike asked gently and, after a brief hesitation, Harry nodded. “Good. Now, I want to tell you some things.”

“Okay,” Harry said, still looking away.

“You’re a Sentinel.” Mike said baldly.

Harry’s head whipped around and he stared at Mike with wide eyes. “I can’t be!”

“Why?”

“‘Cuz...cuz...I _can’t_!”

“Am I lying to you?”

“No,” Harry said, his voice a shaky whisper. “No, but how can it be true?”

“Why do you think that it can’t be true?” Mike wondered.

“‘Cuz Sent’nels are big ‘n strong! I’m jus’ a little... _freak_.” Harry’s voice broke at the end.

“No, Harry, you are _not_ a freak. And you will grow up to be big and strong.”

“How do you know?” Harry’s voice rose to a high squeak at the end. “How can you know?” His breath was coming in panicked gasps and Mike immediately leaned forward and placed at calming hand on Harry’s arm.

“You’re going to have to trust me when I say that I know,” Mike said, pushing soothing waves at him.

Harry pulled up his knees and buried his face in his arms. “I want to be,” he whispered. “I had dreams sometimes where I was grow’d up and helped little kids like me.”

“Those dreams can be true,” Mike said softly. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Harry peeked out at him. “I ust’a think that I’d be stuck in the cupboard f’rever. I heard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon talking about how Dudley needed more room for his toys and I jus’ _knew_ that they were going to make me move in there.”

“That’s not ever going to happen. Not while I’m around to stop it.” Mike assured him.

“How long are you gonna be around?” Harry asked.

“As long as you want me to,” Mike said, getting up and lifting Harry into his arms. “How long do you think that will be?”

“For always,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around Mike’s neck.

“Good,” Mike said, settling back into the chair with him. “How would you feel about going to live in America with me and Derek, and Derek’s family?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, snuggling into Mike’s lap. “I c’n do that.”

\------------

When Ethan came in that morning to check on Harry, Mike pulled Derek into their private room. “What do we need to do to get Harry to America?” he asked. “Without leaving a trail.”

“It will take about a week for everything to be ready. I’m going to start the paperwork at the Dallas office of the Ministry when I get home. We’ll list him as Harry Daniels, your son. We won’t mention that he’s a wizard, just that you’re both coming to stay with us. They won’t question it.”

“They’re going to notice that he doesn’t look like me.” Mike pointed out.

“We’ll only mention that you’ve adopted him if someone asks. Which no one will. Once you’re there, I’ll make sure the paperwork is _misfiled_ in Magical Games and Sports. The department is badly run and constantly inundated with paperwork. They’ll never notice unless an audit is done, and the next one isn’t scheduled for fifty years.”

Mike laughed. “Okay, will I need to get him a passport?”

“No,” Derek said with a little frown. “Unless you’re planning on traveling the Muggle way.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Mike agreed. “Even the airlines that claim to be Sentinel friendly can cause problems in adults, I can only imagine what it would do to Harry, even with the damper on him.”

“So, do you want me to tell him that he’s a wizard, or do you want to wait?” Derek leaned back in the chair, tilting it off the front legs.

“We’ll have to explain the Wizarding world to him, but I think I’d like to wait on telling him that he’s a wizard. He’s had enough surprises recently. Let’s get him down there and settled and then explain.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, but what if he figures it out on his own? We did mention that he might belong to my community and he’s a smart little boy.”

“Let’s just start with the basics and deal with the rest later. I’ll keep him busy with learning to control his abilities until you tell me we can move.” Mike stood. “Let’s go back and get the explanations done so that you can go home. I’m sure Anne is wondering when you’ll be back.”

“Yeah, when I talked to her last night, she was asking how long I thought I’d be. I had to tell her I didn’t know.” Derek followed him out the door.

Harry was chattering at Ethan, but stopped mid-sentence when they came back into the room. He looked at Mike with questioning eyes, but said nothing.

“Ask your question, Harry,” Mike said.

“I has a _lot_ of quest’ins,” Harry said. “C’n I ask all of them?”

Mike nodded. “Yes, you can.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Did you ‘cide when we can go? How far away is ‘Merica? How long will it take? How will we get there? Will Derek’s family like me? Will we live with them or get our own house?”

Mike laughed and held up his hands. “Wow, that _is_ a lot of questions. Let me sit down and we’ll talk about all of them.”

Harry nodded, but kept his eyes on Mike the whole time.

“What do you know about Magic?” Derek asked and Harry’s eyes went wide as he looked over at him.

“That’s a _bad_ word!” He exclaimed. “Dudley asked for a… _magic_ set right ‘fore his birf’day this year and Aunt Petunia got so upset.” His voice dropped to a whisper on the word _magic_. “She tol’ him not to ever say that word again and threatened to wash his mouth out wif soap if he did it again. Dudley _never_ gets punished.”

Derek sighed and closed his eyes. “Right, of course she would think that.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Harry. “Magic is not a bad word. I am a wizard and I can do magic.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, but said nothing.

“Is he lying, Harry?” Mike asked softly.

“No,” Harry said shortly. “But Aunt Petunia said that people who say they're wizards are really bad people. I’m tryin’ to figure out where the bad part of Derek is.”

“Aunt Petunia was...wrong,” Mike said. “Derek is not bad. He’s a policeman for the Wizarding world and _catches_ the bad guys. He won’t hurt you.”

Harry looked at Mike again. “Okay,” he said, reluctantly. “Wha’s the rest?”

While Derek explained the Wizarding world and how they were going to travel to Dallas, Mike watched Harry slowly lose his reluctance and suspicion. At the end of the story, he was _almost_ excited. “Do you have any questions, Harry?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Does your family have magic, too?”

“My wife Anne doesn’t, she’s Mike’s sister and is a Muggle like him.” At Harry’s questioning look, Derek explained, “A Muggle is a non-magical person.”

“‘K,” Harry said.

“My daughters are both magical, although they don’t do it on purpose yet. Little kids just do accidental magic until they are older.”

“Will you show me some magic?” Harry asked eagerly.

“I can’t do any here,” Derek admitted. “Muggle machinery doesn’t like magic, and I don’t want to blow out the electricity on this floor.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “But I’ll get to see some when we get there?”

“Oh, yes,” Derek agreed. “Lots.”

Mike looked at Derek. “How do you get the phone to work in your house?” he asked. “I’ve always wondered that.”

“My father figured that out about ten years ago,” Derek replied. “Since the phone uses such a tiny amount of electricity, he was able to put extra insulation around the wiring and then a shield spell around that. The spell has to be renewed every couple of years and we can’t use any of the newer cordless phones, so the one I have is pretty old.”

“That’s awesome,” Mike said. “But you can’t do it with electrical wiring?”

“No, from what Dad told me, there’s too much electricity in those wires to protect them with magic. The electricity degrades the magic really quickly.”

“That makes sense, in a weird sort of way,” Mike said.

\------------

The next few days were really busy. Harry finally got out of hospital; they wheeled him out to Mike’s car in a fun wheelchair, his blanket and Army guys on his lap. Mike had gone out and bought him some clothes, so he had on stuff that fit him _and_ a pair of shoes. He wiggled his toes, feeling the socks and tryin’ to get used to his feet being confined.

Mike strapped him into the little kid seat that was in the back of the car and Harry immediately rolled the window down, then back up again. Then down.

“Up or down, Harry, but no playing with it when we get going.” Mike said as he slipped behind the wheel and started the car. The engine made an inter’sting rumbly sound, and there were little vibrations under his seat, but it didn’t hurt.

Once they were moving, Harry tried to stay awake, but his head decided he needed to sleep, so he didn’t get to see anything on the way to Mike’s house. He woke up when Mike lifted him out of the seat and carried him into his flat. He wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck and gave his brain a stern talking to about sleeping when it shouldn’t.

Over the next few days, they worked on building what Mike called _shields_ in Harry’s brain as they packed up everything that Mike wanted to take with him, which wasn’t much. “Most of this won’t work in the place we’re going to live, so I’m giving it all to the Center,” Mike explained when Harry asked.

Harry discovered that he had lots of new things, clothes and some toys, and he spent time looking at the books, puzzles, a deck of cards and some little toy cars before putting them in a safe corner of the suitcase Mike had bought for him.

“We’ll get more things once we’re settled, Harry,” Mike said as the last of their clothes were packed away.

“More?” Harry asked. He couldn’t believe he would get _more_. “But this is lots!”

“Not nearly enough,” Mike replied and Harry got a funny feeling in his chest. He rubbed at it to make it go away, but it stayed.

Mike looked over at him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah...just…” His voice broke and Mike lifted him up.

“You’re my son now,” Mike whispered in Harry’s ear. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Harry nodded, but the tears were falling down his face. They weren’t sad tears, Harry realized, they were happy tears. It was amazing.

Three days later, they were gone. Harry was safely perched on Mike’s hip and the old hat that Derek had called a _Portkey_ clutched in their hands. It would be six years before Harry returned to Britain.


End file.
